SHARK CAUGHT--EXERCISING AT
THE GUNS--A BOAT SEEN--NEEDHAM AND ONE OF THE MISSING MIDSHIPMEN FOUND,
NEARLY DYING FROM THIRST--THEY BRING ALARMING INFORMATION.

The _Supplejack_ was making the best of her way across the Caribbean
sea. Murray, or one of his subordinates, Higson, or Jos Green usually
so called, the second master of the corvette, was ever on deck, with
watchful eyes on the bending topmasts, carrying on as much sail as the
brig could bear. Gallantly she slashed through the blue, heaving seas,
a mass of white foam rising up round her bows, and sheets of sparkling
spray flying over her forecastle. A bright look-out was kept on every
side, not in the expectation of meeting either with a slaver or pirate;
but the young commander could not help secretly hoping that he might
fall in with the _Sarah Jane_, and be relieved of his chief cause of
anxiety. His patience, however, on several occasions was sorely tried
when the wind fell light. One day, too, a perfect calm came on, and the
brig lay, her sides lapping the glassy sea, as she rolled in the
slowly-heaving, sluggish swell, and her sails flapped lazily against the
masts. In vain old Higson whistled for a wind till his cheeks were
ready to crack; not that he really believed the proceeding would produce
a breeze, or that he had any notion of the origin of the custom; but he
had always done so when there was a calm; and he wanted a wind, and the
wind, if he whistled long enough, always came. The heat was oppressive,
as it always is under such circumstances in those latitudes; the spirits
of all fell, except those of Jos Green, who was ever merry, blow high or
blow low, in sunshine or cold. The grumblers grumbled, of course, but
in lower tones than usual, like the mutterings of distant thunder; the
phlegmatic became more supine; the quarrelsome had not the energy to
dispute; the talkative were silent; and even Pat Blathermouth, who could
usually spin a yarn which lasted from the beginning to eight bells in a
watch, and then wasn't half finished, could scarcely drawl out an
oft-told tale, which was wont to make his hearers burst their sides with
laughter, but now only sent them to sleep.

"Of course it's hot," answered jolly Jos to a remark of Higson's. "What
else would you have it here in the tropics, with the bright sun striking
down from the cloudless sky? It has its advantages, and it is better
than cold, and saves one the trouble of putting on more cl